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In one of the most gutless, yet unsurprising moves ever, the Boston Globe has decided to bring back fiction writer Kevin Cullen, a man who made up blatant lies on several occasions about being at the Boston Marathon bombing. And of course they announced it at 6:30 PM on a beautiful Friday afternoon when no one would notice.

And people think it’s problematic when Trump calls the media fake news. Here’s an idea – maybe he calls them that because they’re actually fake. Kevin Cullen makes shit up ALL THE TIME. He got caught red handed. He then made his Twitter account private (even though his 16,000 followers could still see all his page) in order to hide damaging tweets.

Here’s what they’re doing:

Translation – they know he’s a serial plagiarizer, but they don’t have the balls to fire him so they’re throwing readers a bone by suspending him without pay for three months. Then he has to come back and scrub toilets for a while until he’s back where he belongs – the streets! His second home…

According to John Henry this damaged Cullen’s credibility:

Then again this is a newspaper whose editor was under investigation for sexual harassment of a former employee while conducting this investigation, and thus the Globe hasn’t had credibility for quite some time now. So at the end of the day, what does it really matter if their featured columnist has no credibility?

Cullen readily admits that he lied:

Which used to be a big no-no for journalists. Now they get plagiarism mulligans I guess.

They found that he made up an entire story about a firefighter friend carrying the body of 8 year old Martin Richard…

No big deal though. He’s just a columnist at a major newspaper injecting himself into a tragedy by fabricating a story about a deceased 8 year old boy.

Then there was the fact that he wrote about how he witnessed 8 year old Martin jump over a barrier and hug his father before he finished running the marathon, which he did not run at all:

No biggie though. Three months off should fix his credibility.

Then there was his complete fabrication that his imaginary firefighter friend looked around for Jane Richard’s leg (who would later be excited to see him driving by in his car 5 years later, prompting him to pull over in the Dorchester Post parking lot and begin weeping, as she left her child labor factory). But it’s not his fault – he made shit up because he was drinking:

This is such classic Cullen. He’s such a grizzled, hard boiled, blue collar gumshoe that he gets overly invested in his stories. And when he gets upset like that he falls back on his biggest vice – whiskey. Straight. No chasers for a street guy like Cullen!!

And what about that whole, “I can still smell it” when referring to the smoke at the Marathon bombing he wasn’t at? That’s no big deal either…..

Lots of people who weren’t at an event say they can smell and taste it. It’s common practice.

Plus this:

So I noticed they didn't mention Crystal Campbell's death wails anywhere in their investigation. Guess that fabrication wasn't a big deal. She died instantly by the way. And she wasn't a pig being burned alive. Human beings don't have death wails.

Guess we’ll just pretend that never happened too. Fuck it. It’s not like the Globe is a real newspaper anyway.

Here’s the thing though – Kevin Cullen is a good left wing soldier. He says the right shit about Trump, which is really the only thing that matters to the mindless sheep who are still dumb enough to pay for a Globe subscription. And they don’t seem to give a shit:

Kevin Cullen is a good journalist. Boston is his home, His writing may have "implied" (as they stated) that he was there, but he was likely speaking as a whole for the city. As a NYT writer would after 9/11. He never explicitly said he was at the scene.

You could defecate on the mother of any of these people and they’d be cool with it if your Twitter bio says #RESIST.

Anyway, I’m kind of glad they didn’t fire him. It’s good for business as a blogger when the biggest newspaper in town has zero credibility. I honestly cannot wait for his first column back, just to see which direction he goes in. His writing style is completely dependent on making things up. Either he goes back to that style and everything he writes is under a constant microscope, or he has to start writing true things, and you’ll see that suddenly his columns aren’t nearly as colorful and dramatic.

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5 Comment(s)

Joe Finn: “Hey Kevin, take my phone and call the guy who works with me and ask him to have a Guinness with us, since you know him better than I do because you’re the token plastic Paddy columnist.”
Kevin Cullen: “Hey Obie, this is Cull. Finna told me you found the kid.”
Sean O’Brien: “Yeah, the whole thing is really sad. It obviously makes me want to drink too much beer with a bunch of Irish guys because that’s what we all do when bad stuff happens, especially the best almost straight off the boat Irish columnist in Boston who never lies about shit, but the wife is being a total bitch and won’t let me hang out with the cool guys like you.”
Kevin Cullen: “I feel ya, Obie. Me too, me too. Anyway, get the wife some flowers. Girls like flowers.”
Sean O’Brien: “Roger that, Culls. You always have the best marital advice, and you’re also the coolest and most Irish guy from America that I know. I hope you make up a story about me some day so I become a folk hero in Southie. Tell Sully and Mac and Kells and all the other firefighters with Irish last names and therefore like you a lot to have one for me.”
Kevin Cullen: “You know it. Later Obie.”
Sean O’Brien: “Hey Kevin -”
Kevin Cullen: “What’s that, Obie?”
Sean O’Brien: “You know I only let you call me Obie.”
Kevin Cullen: “Yeah, I know. Listen, I gotta go, a Guinness draft is calling my name, and the mandolin player is playing ‘Wild Irish Rover’ for me personally. The place needs me to talk to everybody and be Irish and tell them true stories or else nobody will have a good time.”
Sean O’Brien: “I know…. *sob* …Kevin?”
Kevin Cullen: “What now, Obie?”
Sean O’Brien: “I love you. I mean that in the most manly way possible, but I do. Teach me to be Irish cool.”
Kevin Cullen: “Hey Obie, you know that I like to shit on all the other Catholics because they don’t like to hold gay parades, and I was the guy who anonymously started the #MeToo movement, but that doesn’t me I want a guy’s beer hole on my shillelagh. Well, I don’t know. Gay irish guys always hit on me to the point that I almost feel it would be mt national duty as an honorary native Irish guy to take one for the team. Maybe some day when I’ve drank so much that you look like a choirboy.”
Sean O’Brien: “Sure. You’re the best, Kevin. You’re really cool and you tell the best true stories ever.”
Kevin Cullen: “Take it easy, Obie. Here’s your phone, Finna.”
Joe Finn: “Wow, Kevin, that was so cool and Irish that I want to go drink lots of beer and sing songs that all sound alike while some guy plays a tiny string instrument.”
Kevin Cullen: “Bartender, a round of drinks for everybody, even that Jew in the corner.”
Jew In the Corner: “Thanks, Kevin! Wow, I wish I was Irish!”
Kevin Cullen: “Me too, Jew, me too.”

I can hear the “Wild Colonial Boy” playing in the background as this retard hoists PBR’s in the Erie Pub as the clientele stares at him asking each other “Who the fuck is this guy again? Johnnie you know who this guy is? You know who brought him in here?”

Old Mike was rewarded with a sinecure at MSNBC with those paragons of integrity Scarborough and his Low IQ partner in adultery. Always a soft landing if you are one of the right people.

I suspect the hand behind this is the trophy wife who we saw on Chronicle awhile ago dripping with sleaze as she spun cratering readership as being a good thing in (everyone’s latest excuse) “The 21st Century”. She trotted out her digital marketing stooge who made bogus claims that had us chortling.

McGiggity is beyond a sick joke and is equally protected.

I’ll bet Turtleboy’s readership is approaching or even level with people who actually pay for The Globe. Keep it up Turtleboy. Another tenner is coming your way very soon.